No Matter What
by jules70
Summary: Third in a Series. While working on a case, Rachel and John face a very personal crisis.


**Author's Notes: This story is a continuation of John and Rachel's relationship as I developed it in my other two stories "You Were There For Me" and "With All My Heart". There are a couple of references to the plots of those stories here, so you may want to read or re-read them first. They are posted here**

**This time around, I have created my own case for the VCTF to solve.**

**Please be aware that there is discussion of rape in here. It is not necessarily graphic in terms of describing the act, but it is quite emotional, so it may strongly affect very sensitive readers.**

**Also, the case is centered around discussion of various female reproductive conditions. If you or someone you know has experienced any of these, you may be more affected by the story.**

**Finally, there is brief romantic sexual content and mild language.**

**Special thanks to Web MD for providing the medical information discussed here.**

**Alternate Universe**

**Disclaimer: Nothing associated with Profiler belongs to me except the original ideas and characters in this story.**

**The Greater Atlanta Gynecological Clinic is my own creation. Any similarity to an actual medical practice is unintentional and completely coincidental.**

**Rating: PG-13**

**"No Matter What"**

**Part One**

Rachel sat on the hospital bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, a vacant stare on her face. How could she have let this happen? She was an FBI agent, trained to defend herself in any number of situations. How had she allowed herself to be raped?

She lay down and turned on her side, tears pouring relentlessly down her cheeks. Just then, John knocked softly on the door. When he got no response, he opened the door slowly, unsure whether he should enter. "Rachel, honey, is there anything I can do for you sweetheart, anything special you want?" She didn't say anything.

John walked over to the bed and sat down in the chair next to it. He wasn't even sure if she knew he was there. Her tears streaked her face and she seemed to be looking past him out the window. It broke his heart to see her in such torment, a mere shell of herself.

They had been seeing each other seriously for eight months, ever since Joel Marks had taken his own life in John's garage after a twisted attempt to ruin Rachel's career.

John had never met a woman like her; he loved everything about her: her passion, her incredible spirit, her love for life, none of which never diminished, even as they faced horror after horror in the VCTF on a daily basis.

He was worried now though. Seeing her like this, he thought maybe the light in her eyes had been permanently extinguished.

_That bastard_, he thought. _I want to see him fry for what he did to Rachel and those other women! _His mind drifted back tohow he had found her on the laundry room floor with the rapist on top of her, trying to strangle her. Her shirt and bra were ripped to shreds and her sweatpants and underwear were down around her ankles.

John had just returned from briefing Bailey on his interviews with Leanne Hargrove and Margot Lange, two of the other rape victims. Normally, Rachel would have been with him, but she had been nursing a cold and he convinced her that she was entitled to a sick day. He had driven her home from work that morning.

At first nothing seemed amiss when he called her name as he walked into her apartment and didn't get an answer. He thought maybe she was resting and didn't hear him come in.

He had gotten her flowers to cheer her up and went to the kitchen cabinet to get a vase. He thought he heard something, but it didn't completely register at first. He spilled water as he was filling the vase and went to the laundry room to get a mop. It was then that he made the horrible discovery! He _had_heard something: Rachel had been trying to call for help but couldn't because she was gasping for air!

John ran to her and pulled her attacker off with such force that he could have put him through the wall. He handcuffed him to a kitchen chair and called Bailey immediately for back up. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to kill the man on the spot.

Rachel had been practically unconscious as the ambulance sped to the hospital and John had silently prayed she'd be all right. The emergency room doctor had said the physical injuries would heal, and with a lot of intervention, so would the emotional ones. The scars would always be there though.

Being so lost in his thoughts, John hadn't realized Rachel had fallen asleep. _Thank God _he thought. _At least she can get some relief from the thoughts and images that must be going through her mind. _He watched her sleep and a tear trickled down his cheek.

_My poor, poor baby! What can I do to help you through this? _He had dealt with plenty of rape victims in the VCTF and the Atlanta PD, but it was different with someone so close to you. The pain was almost beyond words.

He got up, sat on the edge of the bed, and began stroking her hair lightly in an attempt to comfort her. Rachel's eyes opened slowly and then became wide with fear. She started to cry out.

"Rachel, it's ok, it's John. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." When she realized it was him, she sat up and grabbed him tightly, as if hanging on for dear life. John rocked her as sobs erupted from her body. After three days of virtual silence, the dam had burst.

"Oh, honey, I am so, so sorry I wasn't there sooner to help you." His voice was shaking; he was near the breaking point. "If only we had realized earlier…"

_Flashback: Three days prior..._

Rachel threw the manila folder toward her desk in frustration, but she missed, and the pages which contained the information recently gathered about Deborah Stevens scattered all over the floor.

Deborah was the third victim in as many weeks to have been raped and left for dead in her home. Rachel and the team still hadn't found anything to link the three women, aside from the fact that they were all from upper middle class backgrounds and they were all Caucasian. Otherwise, there couldn't be three more different people.

Though they all lived in Atlanta now, they came from three different states originally. They all had different careers, different marital statuses, and different childhood backgrounds. Usually, the Atlanta PD would have handled what on the surface appeared to be just "run of the mill" rape cases, but the VCTF was called in after deep cuts were found on the abdomens of all the victims. It was almost as though the rapist had branded them.

George had been looking into the women's pasts to see if there was a common denominator between them, and Rachel hoped he would find something soon. It was not like her not to have at least part of a profile by now and it was pissing her off!

Of course, the fact that she had been battling a cold for two weeks wasn't helping matters. She finally sat down at her desk in despair, sneezing and blowing her nose for the umpteenth time that day, and it was only seven o'clock in the morning.

"God bless you--again," John said as he came through the partially open door and began helping her pick up the papers. "Thank you, she said sheepishly. "Why are you here young lady?" he scolded her. "Bailey and I have been telling you for the last two days that you should be home resting."

" I know, I know. I just keep hoping I'll find something that will give us a break in this case."

"Rachel, you've been combing these files for days. Give _yourself_ a break. If the answer hasn't revealed itself yet, I think you need some distance from these cases. It can't help that your head is all clogged and you're 'strung out' on cold medicine either."

"Come on," he continued, "let me drive you home." "But I am perfectly capable of driving myself home," she protested, "and what about my car?"

"Your car will be here when you come back, and why won't you let yourself be taken care of? You've never been good at that." She sneezed again and finally relented.

"O.K., let's go 'sickie', I'll make you some chicken soup," he said.

Rachel was tucked in bed soothing her clogged sinuses with Vicks Vapor Rub and hot tea. She had to admit, John was a great caregiver. "Thank you for taking such good care of me sweetheart. I really do appreciate it."

"I know you do, and your welcome. Listen, George just called; he thinks he's found a link between the rape victims, so I'm going back to the Command Center for a while, but I'll be back around lunch time. Do you need anything before I go?"

"No, I'll be fine. I'm just going to try and sleep."

"Good idea," John said as he kissed her lightly on the lips. "I'll be back soon. I love you."

"I love you, too."

"So George, what have you got for me?" It was 10:00 am and George had been at his computer since 6:30. "Hey John. How's Rachel doing?"

"Since I brought her home, she must have sneezed about thirty times and I think she's used a whole box of tissues, but she seems relieved to be resting. She's worn herself to a frazzle over these rape cases."

"Well, I think I've found something that could give us the break we're looking for," George said anxiously. "I decided to look at medical records for each of the women, and it turns out they have all been patients at the Greater Atlanta Gynecological Clinic." (GAGC)

"What were they treated for?" John asked. "Let's see, Deborah Stevens, a widow, 37, first saw Dr. Miriam Marsh in September 2005 complaining of severe menstrual cramps and pelvic pain. After an exam and several tests were conducted, she was diagnosed with endometriosis, a condition in which the endometrium grows in areas outside the uterus, such as the ovaries and fallopian tubes."

George went on, "The endometrium is the lining of the uterus that builds up every month in preparation for a pregnancy. When no pregnancy occurs, as you know, the lining is shed in a menstrual period."

"How is endometriosis treated?" John wondered. "It depends on whether a woman is trying to get pregnant or not, because endometriosis can cause infertility, and surgery may be required to improve the chances of pregnancy occurring," George answered.

"If a woman has no plans to become pregnant, it can be treated with anti-inflammatory drugs, hormone therapy, or both."

John thought for a moment. "Until the rape, how had she been doing physically?" "Very well, George replied. "There is no cure for endometriosis, but Deborah was responding well to a combination of anti-inflammatory and hormone therapy."

"Alright," John said, "let's look at the next victim." "O.K. Leanne Hargrove, 32, divorced, saw Dr. David Ellis at the GAGC in February 2005 for uterine fibroids. These tumors are non-cancerous and often do not cause any symptoms."

"Leanne, however, was experiencing extremely heavy menstrual periods and other problems. She was also afraid the tumors might interfere with her ability to become pregnant in the future. After consulting Dr. Ellis, she decided the best course of action was to shrink the tumors via embolization. The procedure was performed in April 2005 and proved quite successful for her."

"And our third victim?" John asked. George answered, "Margot Lange, 28, was diagnosed by GAGC physician Melanie Everett with unexplained infertility in October 2005. There appears to be no physical cause, in either her or her husband, for the infertility. She has tried several rounds of invitro fertilization to become pregnant. Up to this point, they haven't been successful."

"O.K., John began. "We have three women seen by three different doctors and treated for three different conditions in the same clinic. Each condition deals, directly or indirectly, with the ability to conceive a child."

He continued, "There was evidence of semen in all the victims, and two of the doctors are women, so they couldn't have committed the rapes. There is, however, Dr. Ellis. I think it's time he and I had a chat."

"I'll be back later George. I'm going to check on Rachel and then I'm off to the GAGC."

**Part Two**

When John returned to Rachel's apartment around 1:00 pm, he let himself in with his key and found her sound asleep. He was eager to tell her what had been discovered about the victims, but considering how miserable she was feeling, he thought it was better to just let her sleep.

He had gotten her some chicken soup (o.k. so he didn't make it) from her favorite restaurant near the Command Center. He put it in the refrigerator and left a note by her bed:

Hi honey… Got a good lead in these rape cases I think. I'm going to chase it down and see where I get. I left some soup in the fridge for you. I hope you're feeling at least a little better. When I get home tonight, I'm going to give you some serious TLC! I'll call you later. As always, I love you. John

After checking in with Bailey about his game plan, John spent a good portion of the afternoon looking into Dr. David Ellis, and after speaking with him and several of his associates, found that Ellis had alibis for the times of each of the rapes.

During one, he was at a medical conference in California, and during the other two, he had been on his honeymoon in Mexico, having just returned this week. Further investigation rendered these explanations irrefutable.

That shot John's theory that Ellis could be the rapist to hell, but he should have realized that answer was too easy. Well, he had to start somewhere. What now, he wondered.

He decided to go back to the victims; it couldn't hurt. He called Deborah Stevens at work, but she was on vacation. Her secretary told him she was visiting relatives in Connecticut and wasn't due back for two weeks. Strike one.

He did get in touch with Margot Lange and Leanne Hargrove though, and conversations with them proved particularly interesting.

Both women mentioned, almost in passing, that they were unnerved by the presence of one of the nurses at the GAGC. His name was Gabriel Miller, and though they couldn't put their fingers on it, something just didn't seem right about him.

They said he only tended to each of them once during their treatments, but he became agitated, acting as though their situations were something within their control, and therefore their predicaments were their own fault. He went on and on about how they should have seen the doctor sooner and been more responsible with their health.

This struck them as odd, and they spoke to him about how inappropriate he was being. He apologized, blaming his behavior on a "bad day", and that was that. They said on the whole they were pleased with the care they received at the GAGC and they didn't want to "make waves", so they didn't report the incidents to their physicians.

This revelation set off alarm bells in John. So, he thought, here's a guy who, for whatever reason, could be holding some sort of a grudge against women with reproductive difficulties. He had to find out the reason.

John was back at the Command Center by 5:30 pm filling Bailey in on everything Margot and Leanne had told him. According to George, Miller didn't have a have a criminal record, but Bailey definitely thought there was more to this than met the eye.

John was prepared to return to the GAGC to question the staff again, but Bailey told him to go home and take care of Rachel.

"You've both worked really hard on these cases and you deserve the evening off," he said. "Besides, I don't need you wearing yourself down and catching Rachel's cold. Nathan and I will follow up at the GAGC and let you know what develops."

"Thanks, Bailey," John said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

John called Rachel on his way home. She said she was feeling a little better and was doing some laundry. She was also curious how things were going with the rape cases. "What have you found out?" she asked.

"I'll tell you all about it when I get home, he said, "but promise me we are not going to spend the entire evening talking about work. You still need to rest and I owe you some much-needed pampering."

"You are so sweet," she said, a smile in her voice. "I can't wait to see you."

"You only have to wait a little longer," John said. "I have one stop to make and then I'll be home."

"Where are you going?" she questioned. He replied, "It's a surprise. Now you take it easy and I'll see you soon. 'Bye honey."

John disconnected the call and continued on his way. He smiled as he imagined the look on Rachel's face when he gave her the bouquet of flowers.

_End of Flashback..._

**Part Three**

John continued rocking Rachel as she cried, struggling to hold back his own tears. " I promise you, I will do everything I can to help you through this sweetheart. Whatever it takes, I'll do it," he said quietly.

Gradually, she began to calm down and they sat in silence for a long time, with John still holding her and rubbing her back. Then Rachel spoke up. "John?" Yes, honey?" " I think I'd like to take a shower, is that all right?"

"Of course it is, sweetheart. I'll go get the nurse to help you and while you're getting cleaned up, I'm going to take care of a few things, but I'll be back very soon, I promise," he said gently.

Rachel became afraid. "How soon?" "Give me an hour, ok? I want you to take a nice long shower and by the time you're done and settled in here again, I'll be back."

She still wasn't sure, but she let him go.

The only thing John needed to "take care of" was getting everything straight in his own mind. So much had happened in the last three days and he had to sort it out. He walked toward the hospital parking lot feeling something between blinding rage and utter despair. He had to make it to his car before he completely lost it.

He picked up his pace and managed to unlock the car door before his emotions overwhelmed him and he fell apart. He originally intended to drive somewhere, anywhere, but now he just sat in the car pounding his fists against the steering wheel and crying like a baby. He couldn't even think at that point. He just let the 'storm' run its course within him.

Eventually he got himself under control and began to replay in his mind the events at Rachel's apartment three days ago. He remembered that when he first found her on the floor, all he could think about was her safety. At that moment, he didn't care who he had handcuffed to the kitchen chair; he only wanted to make sure she was alive.

He had called 911 and then Bailey, saying he had an unknown assailant in custody that had apparently raped Rachel.

It seemed like the ambulance took forever to get there, and in between pacing and checking on Rachel, John looked at her attacker, who had remained mute since being captured.

The more he watched him, the more his fury grew. Finally, John couldn't take it anymore and screamed, "Who are you, you son of a bitch?!" No response. John marched over to him and yanked him to his feet, patting him down to find his wallet.

He thumbed through the credit card slots until he came to a driver's license. To his horror, John realized the man he had found on top of Rachel was Gabriel Miller. Stunned, he pushed Miller down in the chair. He couldn't speak; all he could do was wait for Bailey and wonder what the hell was happening.

John was pulled back to reality by the sound of someone knocking on his car window. It was Bailey, God bless him. He had taken charge from the moment he arrived at Rachel's apartment three days ago. John just hadn't had the strength nor the desire honestly to handle anything remotely related to Miller and the apparent mystery that surrounded his appearance in Rachel's apartment.

Actually, John was hoping Bailey had arrived to shed some light on the situation. He got out of the car and shook Bailey's hand. Bailey patted him on the shoulder. "How's Rachel, John?"

"Earlier today she seemed completely numb; I'm not even sure she knew what was going on around her. Then when she did realize I was with her, she just clung to me, sobbing uncontrollably. I feel totally helpless Bailey; I've worked with lots of rape victims, too many to count, and yet I don't know how to make this better for Rachel."

"John, I don't know if you can make it better. Rachel has to get through this however she's going to get through it; there's no formula for dealing with this kind of physical and emotional trauma, you know that. All you can do is be there for her in whatever way she needs you. Give her time, and most importantly, love her."

"Oh, God Bailey, I love her more than anything," he said, getting choked up again, "but it just doesn't seem like enough. "Believe me," Bailey said, "it is."

John cleared his throat and looked at his watch. "I should be getting back in to see her," he said.

"Alright, "Bailey replied. "I'll walk with you; I want to give you the update on Miller."

John and Bailey were standing outside Rachel's hospital room as Bailey told him everything he had learned about Gabriel Miller.

Miller had been a first-rate nurse at the Greater Atlanta Gynecological Clinic for six years. He was a friendly, quiet person who never talked much about his personal life, but it was common knowledge around the office that he and his wife, Sharon, had begun trying to have a baby in mid 2002.

After a year of trying to conceive to no avail, Miller suggested to Sharon that they seek medical intervention. She said she'd think about it, but it soon became obvious to him that she wasn't interested in pursuing treatment. When he asked her about it, she said she was content with her life as it was, that if it wasn't meant to happen the "old fashioned way", so be it.

For while, Miller seemed to accept that answer, but gradually Sharon realized that he was becoming obsessed with having a child. He never gave her a straight answer as to why it was so important to him, except to say that he wanted to carry on his family name.

Eventually, things got so bad that Sharon filed for divorce, which became final in December 2004. She felt very bad about it, but saw no alternative, especially after he began to question her womanhood and blame her for their difficulties getting pregnant, though he had no medical evidence to support his claim.

Bailey had gotten a warrant to obtain a semen sample from Miller. When confronted with the results, which confirmed that he raped Rachel, Deborah, Leanne and Margot, all Miller said was, "They weren't 'real', whole women; they deserved it." He added, with no prompting from Bailey, that the cuts on their abdomens were the 'icing on the cake' for him. He believed he had "hit them where they lived" because a woman's belly is the center of her fertility.

So John had been on the right track: Miller was a guy who held a grudge against women with reproductive problems. His wife had left him and he couldn't take his frustration with her inability (at least in his mind) to give him a child out on her, so he did the next best thing: he took it out on women who were patients at the GAGC.

_But how does Rachel fit in to this picture,_ John wondered. When he asked Bailey about it, Bailey hesitated. "Because of how the pieces were fitting together in the investigation, I looked into Rachel's background, but I think you'd better talk to herabout that John. There's something _she_ should tell you, not me."

**Part Four**

After Bailey left to check on some other cases, John took a few minutes to mull everything over. The problem was, no matter how he turned it over in his mind, he still had no idea how to begin talking with Rachel about the rape and her apparent connection to Miller.

The rape was still so recent, the emotions so raw, and he didn't want to push her too much; but he also knew they needed as much information for the police report as possible to guarantee that that monster remained behind bars for a very long time. They had the evidence from Rachel's rape kit, but they needed her statement as insurance.

_Well, _John decided, _there is never going to be a good time to do this. We'll just go slow and take it as it comes. Maybe talking about it is a way to at least __begin__ healing._

He took a deep breath and walked into Rachel's room. A nurse was re-bandaging her ribs. "I'll finish that up, thank you," John said. He wanted to complete privacy as he got to the bottom of this whole mess.

The nurse left and he walked over to the bed. A look of relief swept over Rachel's face when she saw him. "Hi baby. Do you feel better after your shower?" "A little," she said cautiously, looking as though she could crumble at any moment.

"That's good," he said. "Here, let me finish putting your bandages on for you." He took the roll of medical tape and continued wrapping her torso, being careful not to hurt her. Still, she winced, and he stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry honey, do you want me to stop for a minute?"

"No, let's just get it over with," she said bitterly. "Alright, hold on." John finished as quickly as he could, with Rachel holding her breath against the pain. "There, all done," he said. Rachel exhaled raggedly and her tears started anew.

John took her in his arms and let her cry once more. "I just can't believe this," she said, as her tears fell on his shoulder. "I don't know how it happened; I'm in law enforcement, I'm trained to defend myself and he still overpowered me."

"Rachel," John began carefully, "I know this may not be the best time to bring this up, but what did happen? What do you remember? We need your statement on record to make sure that son of a bitch rots in prison, with no chance for any loopholes to enter the picture."

"When I first woke up in the hospital," she said, her tears subsiding somewhat, " I barely remembered anything, but over the last couple days, some things have come back to me, even though I've been trying to block them out. I just keep seeing his face." She was trembling.

"I don't think I can do this John," she said, burying her face in his chest. He put his hand under her chin and drew her head up so that he looked her right in the eyes. His love for her was unmistakable.

"Honey, remember when you woke me up in the middle of the night and we drove around talking about your brother and the rapist who had been preying on women at Dandridge?"

"I told you that you are one of the strongest people I know, and that's just as true now as it was then. I know you don't feel strong right now, but you are. You can do this; I'm here with you and Miller can't hurt you anymore."

The bed was raised slightly at the head, and John laid back on it, making room for Rachel to lie against his chest while they talked. He put his arm protectively around her and held her close.

"This has to be official, so I'm going to tape record what you tell me. Let's start with what happened when you woke up and found my note," he said.

"Well," she began, "I saw your note and got up and heated the soup in the microwave. That was around 2:00pm. After I ate, I took a shower, hoping the steam would help clear my stuffy head. By the time I was finished, I felt really tired again, so I went back to bed and slept for a couple more hours.

She went on, "When I woke up it was about 5:00. I was feeling a little stir crazy by then, so I thought I'd get up and do some laundry. When you called at 6:15 I was about to put another load into the washer."

John knew they were coming to the rape, and he hesitated before speaking. Slowly he said, "Rachel, what happened after we got off the phone?"

She took a deep breath. "I picked up the laundry basket and was about to take it into the laundry room when I remembered that I hadn't been to my mailbox in a couple days, so I decided to go while I was thinking of it." She shifted nervously in John's arms and began shaking.

It tore him up to see her like this, having to relive the horror of it all, and he did all he could to soothe her. "Sweetheart, I'm right here; you're all right, no one can hurt you; you're safe," he assured her. "What happened when you went to get the mail?"

Her voice quivered as she spoke. "I put the basket down and opened the apartment door to step into the hall. There was a man there who appeared to be looking for someone. I asked if I could help, and he said yes, that he was looking for Rachel Burke. I told him I was Rachel, and the next thing I knew, he had pushed me back into the apartment with his hands around my neck."

She paused, fighting her tears. "He slammed the door and we tripped over the basket and landed on the floor. That broke his grip on me and I tried to crawl away from him. I got as far as the laundry room and then he had me again."

With that last statement, she couldn't hold back the tears any longer. John waited, kissing her forehead and whispering tender words of love, wishing to God he hadn't stopped to get those flowers. _If I had gotten home sooner, this probably never would've happened, _he thought.

"_Damn it,"_ she exclaimed suddenly, "he was a complete stranger and I told him my name. I know better than that," she said, angry with herself.

"Rachel, please don't blame yourself. You can't always be on your guard, and it's natural to answer someone who mentions your name. You weren't expecting him to be there and you had no way of knowing what he was going to do," John said, pouring her a glass of water.

She drank it and said, "I kept trying to ask him who he was and why he was doing this. He just kept telling me to shut up, that an 'imperfect' woman should know her place. Then he raped me, and the rage that fill his eyes, oh my God! I knew he was going to kill me."

She finished: "He put his hands around my neck again and squeezed. I remember my legs flailing around as I tried to break free; then I heard you come in and call my name. I just kept praying you'd find me; thank God you did."

John turned off the tape recorder. They were quiet then for sometime, and he noticed Rachel beginning to doze off. He got up to go to the bathroom and she stopped him. "Honey, I'm not leaving, I'll be right back," he said. "I know," she replied, having regrouped a bit. "I just wanted to ask you, what do you think Miller meant when he said I was an imperfect woman?"

John explained everything he and Bailey had discovered in the investigation about Miller, the GAGC and the other rape victims. This provided the opportunity for him to ask about what Bailey was referring to concerning Rachel's link to Miller.

Knowing that emotions were still running high, he was uncertain how to approach the subject. Finally, he just decided to ask her straight out. Before he could say anything, however, she said, "John, there's something I need to tell you."

**Part Five**

John came out of the bathroom in Rachel's room drying his hands. He set the towel down on her tray table and lay on the bed with her again. "Rachel, Bailey alluded to a connection between you and Miller. Is that what this is about?"

"Yes," she responded. "As soon as you explained the background of the other rape cases, I remembered Miller and knew why he must have targeted me and referred to me the way he did."

"Honey, we don't have to this now. It's been a dreadful three days for you already. We can talk about this later if you want," John said.

"No, I want to tell you now," she said. "I've already begun to face what happened to me and I may as well continue. As much as it _feels_ like the world is going to collapse around me, I know it won't."

Like you said," she went on, "you're with me, and talking about everything has made me feel at least a little more in control of my life again. Maybe I'm rebuilding some of that strength you mentioned." She gave him a little smile.

He smiled in return and touched her cheek. "You _are _rebuilding that strength, and eventually you will rebuild the rest of your life too, little by little. Don't you give up," he said firmly.

"I won't. Just promise me that you won't give up on me either, and you'll catch me when I 'fall' again. My emotions are all over the place right now, and I'm not used to that," she said honestly.

"I know," he replied, "but everything you're feeling is completely normal, and I will always catch you, no matter what. I love you more than anything."

Rachel knew how much John loved her, but it helped to hear it again as she began to tell him why Miller must have chosen her as his fourth victim. She sat up and John started to rub her shoulders.

"About three years ago, I was in a relationship and I got pregnant. It wasn't something we planned, but we talked about it and decided to keep the baby. We didn't really have any plans beyond that, but James was a decent man, and I knew he'd help me in any way he could."

"Anyway, once I realized I was pregnant, I called my gynecologist to schedule an exam. I found out he was going to relocate to Illinois in a few months and wouldn't be able to follow through with my whole pregnancy. I asked him who he could recommend in his place, he said the GAGC. I went there and felt comfortable right away."

Her voice got quieter as she continued. "Then about ten weeks into the pregnancy, I started spotting. I went in right away for an exam and they kept me there for observation. Later that day the bleeding increased and I started cramping. I lost the baby John." A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Oh, Rachel, I am so sorry! "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly, taking her hand.

"There just never seemed to be a 'right' time to bring it up, and after a while I just didn't see the point." She paused, overcome by an incredibly empty feeling; John could see it in her eyes as he shifted on the bed to face her.

Rachel always thought she was one to face things head on, but she realized as she was sharing this with John that she hadn't dealt with it at all. Instead, she had buried it deep inside in order to protect herself. This was the first time she had truly allowed herself to feel anything about it. The numbness she was so accustomed to was suddenly replaced by pain so profound that she thought she'd collapse under the weight of it. That thought terrified her and she began to cry in earnest.

"See, this is the part where you're supposed to catch me," she said, trying to smile through her tears.

"Two arms, no waiting," he said lovingly, gathering her in a hug.

John and Rachel talked late into the evening about her miscarriage. She told him that Miller had been her caregiver for her appointment in the week following the loss. She didn't notice anything unusual except that he seemed quite affected by her situation, almost as though he was experiencing the loss himself.

"Maybe he was grieving over the fact that he and his wife were having difficulty getting pregnant, so he naturally took my loss to heart," Rachel speculated.

"After all, it was still early in the process for him; his wife hadn't divorced him yet, and he probably still had hope that she'd consider alternative methods to conceive. If that's the case, then the rage that led him to rape me and the other women wouldn't have fully developed yet."

John picked the train of thought from there. "Then things start to go down hill. His wife says she doesn't necessarily have to have a baby, and he can't deal. He blames her; she divorces him. Pretty soon, he turns his anger inward and his wrath over her 'imperfection' builds and builds until he takes it out on unsuspecting women with reproductive problems."

"Obviously," Rachel interjected, "by the time he got to me, his initial sadness over my misfortune had festered into complete loathing that I couldn't carry my baby to term."

She stopped talking and thought for a moment, then she said, "John, don't you think it's just too big of a coincidence that he attacked someone who is a profiler investigating the rapes he's committed?" "Go on," he said.

"Well, whereas his other choices of victims appear to have been random within the patient pool, I think he chose me specifically because I was a patient at the GAGC _and_ I was investigating the rapes. He must've known about my involvement in the cases because of the media coverage of them and remembered me from the GAGC. Once he made the connection, he deliberately came after me."

She continued, "On the other hand he's very unsystematic and impulsive. Look at the way he was waiting in the hallway for me. He had no idea if I was home or not, unless he followed us when you brought me home that day; and if he did know I was home, he could have tried to break in, but he didn't. He just waited on the off chance that eventually I'd either come home or come out. In that sense, it was a crap shoot as to whether his plan would work."

Rachel sighed, satisfied that she had put the pieces of the puzzle together. Being a profiler, it was as natural to her as breathing. John realized though that it was much more than that. In processing all the information, not only had Rachel solved the mystery, as much as it could be solved, she had also taken her first steps on the long road to recovery.

**Epilogue- Four months later**

Rachel stood in front of the mirror in John's bedroom in her underwear, eyeing herself critically. Most of the visible signs of her attack had faded, but as her hands traveled down her body she couldn't help but grimace at the thick scars on her abdomen. She didn't even remember that Gabriel Miller had cut her during his assault. _Thank God for small favors I guess,_ she mused. The pain of everything else he had done to her was enough to last two lifetimes.

Memories of the last twelve weeks flashed through her mind suddenly like cruel snapshots: feeling so lost, as though she was drowning; the interminable waiting for the STD, HIV and pregnancy test results (all were negative, thank God); the unspeakable sadness; Miller's face, which haunted her dreams; crying until she thought she couldn't cry anymore; the list was endless.

The impact of this sudden onslaught was strong enough to knock her off balance and she struggled to steady herself against the dresser. Her psychologist told her these occurrences were normal and to be expected after such intense trauma, but Rachel was having trouble coming to grips with them. She held on to the dresser like it was lifeline; her breath came out in short gasps.

"John," she called urgently. He came quickly to her side, and seeing her distress, guided her to the bed. "Rachel, it's ok, I'm here. Hold on, this will pass," he said, stroking her arms as he knelt in front of her.

The duration of these episodes had decreased somewhat in the last few weeks, so that was a good sign, but John knew they might plague Rachel to some degree for the rest of her life.

Soon her breathing normalized and she reached out to hug him. "Whoa--I made it through another one," she said. "Yes you did; I'm proud of you, honey."

"Thank you, but I'm not sure there's anything to be proud of. I'm just trying to live my life."

"After what you've been through, of course there's something to be proud of. You endured something so horrendous it's nearly incomprehensible, but you didn't lose hope. You persevered, and you didn't let Miller rob you of your spirit; you didn't let that bastard win."

Rachel pulled back from the hug looked at him with loving eyes. "Oh, John, your love and support have really made the difference. Who knows what shape I'd be in if it weren't for you. Thank you for 'catching' me."

He touched her face and kissed her tenderly on the lips. They hadn't had much romantic contact since the rape, other than some gentle kisses and caresses. Rachel just hadn't been ready for much beyond that, but now something was different. She couldn't explain it; she just knew the time was right.

John felt her respond and withdrew his lips, looking at her questioningly. "Are you sure honey? I don't want you to be uncomfortable with this at all; you must be completely ready."

"I'm sure John. I want to be with you." He led her to the head of the bed and pulled the blankets down. He undressed slowly, never taking his eyes off her. Then he removed her underwear and let his hands explore her body. He could feel her tense as he came to her belly. He looked at her and saw the question in her eyes: _Has the rape changed anything between us?_

She started to speak and he stopped her. "Rachel, I think I know what you're going to say. You're worried that things will be different between us now, aren't you?"

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. He took her face in his hands and said, "Sweetheart, there is _nothing _anyone could do to you change how I feel about you, _nothing! _I love you, no matter what."

"Oh, John, I love you, too."

Rachel knew she still had a long way to go to fully come to terms with what had happened to her, but she also knew she was the same person she had always been; John had helped her see that more clearly than ever. That knowledge made this night even more special. She was a _very _lucky woman.

**The End**


End file.
